


To My Lover, I'd Never Lie

by LizaKoshyVevo



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Archery, Eddie is every experienced, M/M, Reddie, Richie is really modest, Richie isn't on his level, but he's really good too, minor child abuse in the later chapters, that archery story you didn't know you wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 03:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaKoshyVevo/pseuds/LizaKoshyVevo
Summary: Richie could never be serious about a goddamn thing in his entire life. But one thing he knew he wanted was to make his parents proud at least once. Even if it meant doing the sport he hated, next to the guy he loved. Or... Really, really, liked(even if the feelings weren't mutual). But life can't be that simple and easy, can it? Eddie wants to represent the US in the olympics, in Archery. When Richie hears him say this, he, too, decides to follow in Eddie's footsteps. Eddie, seeing this as possible competition he doesn't want, decides to take matters into his own hands. Faking a relationship to get your partner to forfeit maybe isn't right... But whatever it takes to win, though, right?





	To My Lover, I'd Never Lie

**Author's Note:**

> I know so little about Archery. Don't kill me.

He hated it, and his parents knew it. They still forced him to get up and out of the house to do something with his life. If he isn't going to go to college, he still needed to get out of the house. Although his parents will say something along the lines of "they just don't want for him to waste his years while young" that was 90% a fib. Anyone can see that his parents couldn't care less about him. They simply want for him to be out of the house the majority of he time, to keep their hair clean. Surprisingly enough... Richie wonders why his parents didn't give him up for adoption when he was twelve, when they had the chance. Anyway...

He really had no choice in the matter. He had to pick a sport to occupy his time, or he had to move out of his parents' home. Being 14 at the time, he had no other option. Also, being Richie, he randomly chose one of the activities by randomly drawing one out of a hat. A literal hat. He threw some basic ones in there, like: basketball, baseball, etc. Then he put crazier ones that he knew he couldn't afford to do, that revolved around skiing, bobsledding, boxing, etc. But he figured that since he only put a few in it, he'd get a basic one. Because can you imagine? Richie? Boxing? Neither could he. Luckily, he got Archery. How hard would it be to pull a string back? 

Turns out it's extra hard to pull a string back. Did you know that you have to thoroughly exercise before using a bow? Neither did he. 

Now at 17, he's fairly decent at archery. He wouldn't say that he's the best archer out there, but if you put a bird in a tree, he was certain he could hit it in one try, and the one behind it. You know, killing two birds with one arrow-- you know that popular saying? 

He had-- still has to-- pay for everything he needs to even use. Traditional bows cost anywhere from expensive, to money Richie could never save up. Luckily for him, he did have a job. It may not pay much, but with his weekly side job of snooping through the wallets of his parents, he was able to afford one a month or two after he made his decision. He originally had his heart set on one that was a little over $300, but the one on sale for $70 seemed like a better option. It may not have looked the part, but it certainly did the same as any expensive one could. He also had to distribute the money properly, as he has to properly train somewhere, and have someone teach him all the cool stuff he looked up on Google. Maybe he could learn how to split an arrow in half. You can actually do that, right? 

Each day that he had come to meet his teacher out in the field, he had memorized and met each and every person throughout that time, and he could greet everyone, and strike up boring, filling conversation. Normally he practices out in the field, but whenever he got a 10 minute break, he always headed inside to speak to the people he knew very well. This place wasn't well-known, nor "small" and closed off, but the onslaught of people that filtered in and out never changed. The same faces he said goodbye to Monday, are the same people he said hello to on Wednesday. Whenever he walked in, he felt welcomed like no other. Several of the people he passed, they greeted him, and asked him how his day was. Small, but the small gestures, and the fact that they remembered small things about him, his name, his birthday, his age, all of that made him feel like this was a second home. Or rather... a first. 

But when he came in late today, an unfamiliar face caught his attention. He had never seen him before. While the others that attended the club were no younger than 30, this boy seemed like he was Richie's age. His appearance overly-done to make sure that nothing was out of place. His hair, perfectly parted, as if a stray hair wouldn't dare break the form. Even his white, long-sleeved shirt had no visible wrinkles, except for where his arm would bend to draw his string back. The black pants he wore maybe were too long for him, so they were rolled up at the bottom, and the cuffs sat perfectly over his white converse. 

His face is so concentrated, Richie is sure that he can't even notice his glass-eyed admirer watching from a short distance, while he aims for a target seated a great distance. 

Adjusting his glasses, Richie can't care less if the boy notices his staring. Seeing someone around his age coming here to do target practice interests him, but the major reason he can't stop staring is because of how well the boy didn't miss short of bulls eye for each target his trainer sat out for him. He even threw in That was the reason. Even though Richie has been doing this for years, this brown-eyed boy just waltzed in here, and is making him look bad. How dare he? 

After the boy finishes his rounds, he lowers his bow. Stealing a glance over at Richie, he eyes him up and down quickly, and his entire look seems like it's telling Richie Thanks for watching, but can you do better? without a smile or smirk. All Richie can do is watch with his mouth slightly ajar, as the other walks away. 

He stands there processing the fact that someone is better than him at his own private place. Any normal person would start competition the minute they were looked at the way Richie was, but he can only see this as a friendly opportunity. And also a competition. That, too. 

"T-t-t-today, Junior!" 

Richie spins around, hearing his coach scolding him for not only coming late, but admiring someone else during his time. His paid time. And lord knows that Richie can't afford to waste that. 

***

The time for Richie's break couldn't come fast enough. He wanted to speak to the boy from earlier, desperately. Not to chase after him, but becoming friends is definitely something on Richie's list. The way that he seemed to effortlessly follow the commands from his trainer, it caught his attention. Richie couldn't focus on what his trainer was saying for too long, and that's okay. His trainer knew that, and kept a tight hold of his patience whenever his student drifted off course. But maybe the other boy got so good because of his unwavering concentration. God, Richie wishes he could do that. 

Unfortunately for him, the boy's break must've been back when he left earlier. Richie came to that conclusion when he and his trainer hadn't come back for a while. He didn't know that for a fact, but evidence heavily suggest that, because he came back, and the training didn't stop when Richie's break rolled around. 

Somewhat creepily, Richie didn't sit at his usual spot in the cafe. He picked a spot closest to the window, and admired the boy once again. During his own practice, he couldn't watch, but nothing could stop him from looking from the slightly tinted cafe windows. How could he explain why he loved watching so much? He just met the boy, yet here he is... basically stalking him. Maybe it has to do with the fact that the boy's trainer used targets that were shaped like people, shoulders and up, and Richie used regular targets. Or maybe how the boy got moving targets every now and then. Or maybe how he carried his arrows in the same hand he held his bow, and Richie held them in a pouch that stayed around his waist. 

After a few minutes, Richie notices the boy finally ending his session. At the same time, the timer on his phone goes off signaling the end of his break. Finally, this has to be his chance to speak to him. Has to be.

Making it to the doors before the boy made it from the field, he waits for him to retrieve some of his things he left on one of the outside benches. He pushes the door open, and makes his way over to him. No rush, no rush. He doesn't want to seem too desperate, and give off the wrong kind of confrontation meaning. 

The boy only has a few things patiently waiting for him, and packing them up will be no trouble. Only a few discarded arrows-- one broken--, a fanny pack, and his phone await. His friend told him that his fanny pack wouldn't match with his outfit, but where else will he store his inhaler and phone? In his pockets? 

He wraps the two straps around his waist, and fastens it in the back, securing it around his waist. Pulling the zipper back, he opens the first compartment, and places his phone inside. After zipping it back up, he reaches down to pick up his arrows, but they aren't down there, but instead are in the hand of the stranger from the field. Did he need help with his equipment? Is he incapable of picking up his own things? A nice gesture is all it is. No need to read more into it. 

"Thank you," he says, and takes them from the stranger. They would be placed in his bag, but the space is lacking. For now, they'll be held in his hand.

A few more seconds of silence pass before the curly-haired boy speaks again, "You're really good."

"Thank you, again." 

The words from the boy were said dryly, with no emotion. 

"What kind of, um, bow is that?" Richie gestures to the instrument that rests on the bench, which had been an exchange for his fanny pack. Of course, he knows exactly which bow it is, but he cannot simply let their conversation end on such a low note. 

He doesn't need to, but he steals a look over at his bow, as if he doesn't know which one he'd been using for hours on end. A habit, really. "A compound." He recalls seeing the other boy using a traditional bow, so he assumes that he must be a beginner. Especially if he doesn't even know what a compound bow is, he'll easily be no competition. But really, he wasn't a competitor in the few hours of work he had seen. But that doesn't even matter. He's positive that neither of them have the same end goal, anyhow. 

"I'm Richie," Richie, obviously, says. Maybe he should've started with that first, but oh well. 

"Eddie," Eddie breaks his demeanor and gives a small smirk. He hadn't planned on meeting Richie, or even introducing himself to him, but here we are. 

Eddie stands up straight, and properly looks over "Richie". They're so different if you juxtapose the two. Both have curly hair, though Richie more than he does. While he has his hair following a uniform pattern, Richie's seems all over his head, as if he didn't even try to comb it that morning. Eddie would never be able to leave the house like such. Richie wears vans, while Eddie wears converse. Richie is a giant, while Eddie is a nymph. Eddie is wearing a white shirt, while Richie wears a a similar one, but a flannel overtop it. Eddie, wears pants, and Richie wears shorts. Almost completely the opposite. A worthy... opponent. Maybe. Maybe not.

Smiling, Richie swears he can feel positive energy from the shorter boy. Or at least some kind of energy. "It's nice to meet you, Eddie." 

Only giving a small smile, Eddie leaves on that note. He isn't here to make friends, nor be friendly to strangers. His mother always said to not speak to strangers, and that's exactly what he's not going to do. He's on a schedule, and he's got no time to simply fit friends into the mixture. Friends require time and energy-- something he doesn't have to just give away. The conversation barely fit. A strict schedule doesn't have room for friends, and he wishes he could say that without sounding rude. It's nice to see someone around his same age, but he's only here for practice, then starting the next chapter in his life. Hopefully, Richie isn't as friendly Friday. Distractions cost time. Eddie's time. 

***

**Author's Note:**

> Short, I know! The next will be longer, I promise.


End file.
